Pain in the Mouth
by Corbin Slate
Summary: Rowdy has a toothache


_Title: Pain in the Mouth_

_Rating: Pg_

_Summary: Rowdy has a toothache_

_A/N: The character who is the dentist is an O/C who was in another fic of mine, so that's how Rowdy seems to know him. I know how much we all love O/C's but I couldn't leave this one alone. _:)__

The young ramrod grimaced as he absently tongued an aching tooth. For the past few days even thinking about eating made Rowdy shudder. A molar toward the back of his jaw buzzed and throbbed as if he'd been punched in the face.

"Rowdy, what in tarnation are you doing?"

The young man's hand drifted to the sore side of his face, and his mouth gave a strong bolt of pain.

"Rowdy!" Mr. Favor's voice had a sharp edge, but Rowdy barely seemed to notice that he was even being addressed. "Are you hard of hearing?!"

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'_No,' _Rowdy thought miserably. Was he supposed to be doing something? What was it that he'd forgotten this time? Oh well, maybe it wasn't that important. _'__Go ahead and yell at me, Boss. Maybe then I'll remember what it is I'm supposed to be doing.'_

The sound of Favor's horse barely registered in Rowdy's ears as the trail boss kicked his mount to catch up with the younger man. "What is the matter with you? Are you even watching where you're going?"

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'_Actually, no I wasn't watching where I was going,' _Rowdy grumbled to himself. Favor reached out and gripped Rowdy's reins, and forced his horse to pull to a stop. Rowdy suddenly realized that he'd allowed his mount to wander pretty far away from the herd, and they were beginning to stray into some really mean looking brush.

"Come on, get back to the herd."

What Rowdy really wanted to do was have a shot of whiskey and a long nap. That would make him forget about the pulsing torment in his mouth for a while. He knew that he'd heard the command to return to the herd, but he didn't respond right away. Rowdy sat on his mount in a miserable daze as his horse pawed absently at the dirt.

After several lonely minutes had passed Rowdy's horse wandered slowly back to the herd of cattle. The ramrod didn't seem to mind that he was riding toward the drag end of the herd. He let his horse pick the route that they rode the rest of the evening.

Rowdy barely noticed when Mr. Favor gave the order to bed the herd down for the evening. The young man's horse plodded lazily to the hitch line in the camp. Rowdy halfheartedly secured his dust caked horse to the line and wandered away from the horses.

Dirt came off of Rowdy's clothes like brown smoke signals, but he barely noticed. Not even the grit in his mouth seemed to trouble him. He dragged his feet over to the chuck wagon, and saw that Wishbone had made beef and beans for supper. Rowdy spotted the man he wanted to have a word with, and carefully guided him away from the other drovers.

"Mushy," Rowdy whispered in a low tone.

"Yes sir, Mister Rowdy. What is it?" Mushy had a cheerful expression on his face, and he fidgeted as if he was standing in a bed of scorpions.

"Yeah, keep your voice down, will ya?" Rowdy snapped in an irritated whisper. His tooth had just given him a good spurt of pain, and he winced as if he had been stuck in the side with a pin.

"Sure thing, Mister Rowdy," Mushy said in a softened speaking tone of voice.

"I need you to do something for me, but its gotta be kept quiet. You think you can keep a secret for me, Mushy?"

Mushy suddenly looked conflicted. '_Keep something from the Boss and Mister Wishbone?' _After a few seconds Mushy gave Rowdy a smile. If the Boss could trust Rowdy then so could he. "Well, sure I can Mister Rowdy, but what is it that you need to be keeping so secret from everyone?"

The ramrod explained what he wanted in as slow and a patient a tone as he could muster. Mushy's eyes widened at Rowdy's request; he knew that he shouldn't get into Mister Wishbone's things.

"Golly, Mister Rowdy. I'm not sure that I can help ya. I'd like to, but Mister Wishbone would skin me alive if he found out what I'd done."

Rowdy rubbed his face in frustration. He tried to speak in a kind tone, but it was difficult to pull it off, "Look, Mushy. I ain't gonna say nothing to anybody, and I swear that I'd give it right back as soon as I was finished."

"Why do you need it so bad, Mister Rowdy?"

The molar gave an angry burst of discomfort that Rowdy felt clear to the soles of his boots and he hissed in pain. "Mushy, never mind about why I need it. I just do. Now are you gonna help or not?"

At the thought of being confronted by an angry Wishbone Mushy took a quick step back. "Mister Wishbone says that no one's allowed to touch that bottle if'n they want to keep their fingers. I'd like to help you Mister Rowdy, but if he knew I'd let you have it he'd poison me for sure."

Heat was building beneath Rowdy's shirt collar, and he rolled his eyes in irritation. "Listen Mushy, just forget I ever said anything about it, okay? Can you manage that for me?" Rowdy snapped before storming away from the young man.

He didn't need Mushy's help; Rowdy wondered why he'd even bothered to ask him. All he needed right now was a stiff drink to gentle the ache in his jaw. Rowdy didn't think about it anymore. He climbed into Wishbone's wagon when the cook wasn't looking and took what he wanted.

Rowdy stole away with the bottle clenched firmly between his trembling fingers. He sought refuge beneath a large tree and yanked the cork from the bottle. Rowdy gave the stuff a guilty stare before his tooth reminded him of his situation. Without another moment of hesitation he put the bottle to his lips and took a good swallow of the liquor.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" the deep voice startled him, and he nearly choked on the burning fluid in his mouth. Rowdy swallowed with a grimace and brought the bottle down from his mouth.

"Boss, it's not what you think," Rowdy stated defensively. Already he felt the fierce pulse in his mouth beginning to calm down.

"Well, you better start explaining, because I'm sure that you weren't just drinking that whiskey in your hand. That is, unless you don't want to be working for me anymore," Favor stated in a firm tone.

"Yeah, well the thing is, I've been nursing a bad tooth for more than a couple of days. It's just getting to me tonight, and I needed something to take the edge off."

Favor grumbled in acknowledgment as he reached for the bottle still clenched in the younger man's hand. Rowdy surrendered the bottle without a protest. "You could have just asked Wishbone instead of stealing from him."

Before he could stop himself, a small chuckle escaped Rowdy's lips. "Boss, I needed a shot of whiskey. Not Wish's special recipe."

"Take second watch and get some rest. If I catch you after this again I'm gonna let Wishbone deal with you, and then I'm gonna be out of a ramrod. It's only two days until the next town. They probably got a dentist there you could see. If not we'll figure something out," Favor stated taking the bottle and walking away from the younger man.

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_ '__A dentist?' _Rowdy groaned aloud. He didn't want to see a dentist. That was asking for torment with an open mouth. With a frown Rowdy went to find his bedroll and get some rest before the dull of the whiskey left him and the toothache came charging back.

Rowdy still didn't want to see a dentist even if it meant that he would get out of work for a while. There wasn't much choice in the matter now that the Boss knew what was going on; Favor would never allow something like a toothache distract his second in command.

"Rowdy," Mr. Favor began as he sipped a mug of morning coffee, "you go on into town with Mushy and Wishbone."

"Right," Rowdy mumbled with a grimace; he wasn't looking forward to this trip into town one bit.

The trip into town could never have been long enough for Rowdy. He'd dragged his mount along beside the supply wagon in a forlorn pace. When they approached the little civilization Rowdy felt his stomach turn as his tooth gave him a nasty pinch.

"Now there's the dentist, Rowdy," Wishbone stated as he pointed to the painted window that Rowdy had spotted several minutes earlier.

"Yeah, thanks, Wish. I saw the sign," Rowdy grumbled as he smoothly dismounted his sorrel gelding. Wishbone scrunched up his face as if he was about to say something sharp to the ramrod in answer, but he forced a smile and focused on Mushy.

"Mushy, you go on with Rowdy. Make sure he makes it to that office and see that you keep him company," Wishbone gave Rowdy a little smile of encouragement. "I'll be over at the General Store if you need me."

"Okay, Mister Wishbone," Mushy stated happily as he hopped easily down from the supply wagon to join Rowdy.

The pair of young men made their way across the dirt street to the small dental office that was squeezed between a catina and a telegram office. When Rowdy reached the door, he hesitated for a moment. He gathered his wits and gave the doorknob a soft turn and followed the door inside.

In the center of the quiet office was a dark leather-covered chair that reminded Rowdy of the fancy chairs the barbers had in their shops. The tray of dangerous looking instruments stole his attention from the chair, and he nervously swallowed a bit of air. Why did everything in here have to look so sharp?

"You ain't feeling nervous, are ya, Mister Rowdy?" Mushy's voice brought Rowdy back to reality, and he automatically shook his head in denial. Of course he wasn't nervous; not one bit. His heart was pounding like he'd been trying to turn a stampede, but he wasn't scared.

The sound of water sloshing nearby, and Rowdy glanced in the direction of the noise to see who was there.

"Be right with you," a man's voice stated. He had his back turned to Rowdy and Mushy, but Rowdy was sure that he'd heard that voice somewhere before.

When the man turned and faced Rowdy, Rowdy stepped back in surprise. The dentist had a mildly amused expression on his face as he dried his hands on a clean towel.

The dentist was a young man by the name of Morgan Stillwater. Rowdy had run into this fella before, and there was more than a little mistrust of Stillwater on Rowdy's end. The cowhand eyed Stillwater with suspicion. The dentist was clean cut and neatly dressed. Morgan wore a collared, white button down shirt, dark slacks, a white waist apron, and a revolver at his right hip. He reminded Rowdy more of a barkeep than a dentist, but then Rowdy really hadn't seen many dentists in his time.

"You?" Rowdy stammered, ignoring the pounding sensation in his mouth.

"You know the dentist?" Mushy asked in a surprised tone of voice.

"Sure he knows me. We're old friends. Aren't we Mister Yates?" Stillwater gave Rowdy a friendly smile. Rowdy found his gaze drifted to the familiar revolver at Morgan's side.

"That's not what I would call it," Rowdy growled.

The two men stood regarding each other for a little while, and Mushy became interested in the glittering bottles shielded behind little windows of glass in several oak cabinets.

"Come on, Mushy. I've changed my mind."

Mushy looked bewildered. "But your tooth is still hurting ya, ain't it? You haven't even let him look at ya to see if he can doctor ya. The Boss won't be too happy if you go back with that bad tooth."

Rowdy groaned; for once Mushy was right.

"How long's your tooth been bothering ya?" Morgan asked softly.

"I dunno. Awhile now I guess," Rowdy answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Well come on then, and I'll see what I can do for you, Mister Yates," the young man said softy as he gestured toward the dark chair in the center of his office.

Rowdy glanced at Mushy with urgency in his features. "Mushy, watch this fella. Make sure he doesn't try anything funny," Rowdy whispered to the other young man. Mushy looked a little confused, but he nodded that he would try and so as Rowdy had asked.

The ramrod took a tentative seat on the padded leather chair; he was sitting on the very edge of the seat, and he looked more than a little tense. Morgan approached Rowdy with a friendly expression on his face.

"Now Mister Yates, you're gonna have to sit back," the dentist coaxed in a soft tone. 

Rowdy hesitated for a moment, but did as he was asked. Stillwater adjusted the chair's height with a foot lever and titled it back a bit. Rowdy looked more than slightly concerned

"Open your mouth," Stillwater said holding a sharp looking pick in one hand and a small mirror in the other. He leaned in close to Rowdy's face, and waited with his tools at the ready.

On reflex Rowdy felt his jaw clench in distrust, but he forced it to relax and obey the request. As soon as he had opened up the pick and the mirror invited themselves in. There was a tangy metallic taste in his mouth, and Rowdy listened to the gentle clicking noises on the inside of his mouth. He tried to look at the ceiling and think of anything but where he was at the time, but nothing seemed to help.

"Does this hurt?" the gentle question was followed by a brilliant flash of agony. Rowdy let out a gagged yelp and flinched back. In a moment the pain had receded slightly, and was replaced by a steady throbbing rhythm inside his upper jaw. Mushy had jumped up from the chair he was seated on, ready to come to Rowdy's defense, but he relaxed when he saw Rowdy really wasn't hurt.

Thankfully, the pick and the mirror were removed. Stillwater had a small bottle in his hand now, which he was shaking gently. He tipped a bit of the liquid onto his forefinger and gestured for Rowdy to open his mouth again. Reluctantly, Rowdy complied. When the slightly spicy liquid touched the aching tooth, it seemed to ease a bit more, and Morgan cleaned his hands on another towel.

"Well Mister Yates, you definitely have a nice cavity. Would you like the tooth filled, or pulled?"

A hand instinctively migrated to his sore jaw as he sighted a pair of pliers that would be used to yank out the tooth he'd chewed with for years. He thought about it for a moment. Sure, a filling did cost a bit more, but did he really want to live with an empty space in his mouth to save a bit of coin?

"Filled," Rowdy answered grimly as he recalled nearly every bit of sugar he'd ever consumed in his lifetime. Silently, he kicked himself for eating all those lemons with salt as a kid. His ma had told him not to. Why did he ignore her, when his enamel had begged him for mercy?

"You've done this before, right?" Rowdy asked nervously.

"Sure, it's easier after the first time," Morgan teased quietly. He handed Rowdy a small measure of dark liquid, and Rowdy stared into the stuff. The young man swallowed the stuff down, and shuddered at the familiar bitter taste.

"We'll give that stuff a few minutes to kick in before we start," the young man said to Rowdy reassuringly. Morgan walked away from Rowdy and busied himself selecting the tools he wanted to use.

Fifteen minutes later Rowdy was drowsing comfortably in the dentist's chair. Mushy watched half out of interest and half out of concern as the man set to work on Rowdy.

It was awhile later when Rowdy was vaguely aware of Mushy's voice calling out to him, "Mister Rowdy, are ya all right?"

"Sure..." Rowdy drawled thickly. His head was pounding, and his jaw was sore in a new way.

"Give him a few minutes," Stillwater instructed quietly as he cleaned his tools.

It was several groggy minutes later when Rowdy remembered what he was doing. "Well, Stillwater, what do I owe ya?"

Morgan smiled before he replied, "Nothing, Mister Yates, consider us square for helping me out a while back."

Mushy and the dentist helped Rowdy to stand, and Mushy guided the dizzy ramrod out of the office. Mushy led Rowdy to the supply wagon, where Wishbone was sitting. The cook looked as though he'd been ready to head out a while ago. They helped Rowdy get into the back of the supply wagon since he wasn't in any shape to ride his horse back to camp, and they tied his gelding to the back of the wagon.

Once they'd returned to camp and Rowdy had regained his senses he wanted a mirror. The new, dull ache in his jaw was much more bearable than the fiery pulsing of his cavity had been. He looked into the mirror and opened his mouth wide; after a few minutes of looking he breathed a sigh of relief. All of his teeth were safe and accounted for, and the sore one was fused with new gold.

"Does it still trouble you?" Mushy asked in a concerned tone as he handed Rowdy a mug of coffee. Rowdy shook his head, no; he felt much better now. Mushy smiled and scuttled off to find Wishbone.

Rowdy looked into the mug of coffee and wondered whether or not he could stand to drink it so soon. He risked a tiny sip on the good side of his mouth and looked out at the horizon.

"Feeling better now?" a familiar voice asked. Rowdy turned to face Favor.

"Yeah, thanks," he answered taking another cautious sip of coffee on the pain free side of his jaw.

"Was it as bad as you thought it'd be?"

The young man shook his head, and Favor smiled.

"Funny how a little thing like that could distract a man so much."

"Yeah," Rowdy answered as he gently tongued his new filling with interest.

Seconds later Mushy hurried up to the pair with a plate of warm food in his hands. To Favor's delight Wishbone had made powdered doughnuts. Rowdy glared at the sugary things; it would be at least another day before he could even think about putting sugar on anything. 

  


_A/N: I did some research on civil war dentistry, and what information I did find wasn't pleasant. I decided to spare myself and poor Rowdy from the trauma that he probably would have gone through. The dental drills of the time were not air or water cooled. They got hot, which meant a lot of discomfort. Not to mention the fact that the drugs the dentists used, if they used any, were highly addictive and dangerous. But my intent was not to hear Rowdy screaming in the dental office; I just wanted have a bit of fun with him._

  
  



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